


Deserving

by frozenCinders



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Backstory, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 07:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21050621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozenCinders/pseuds/frozenCinders
Summary: For the first few of them, at least, Chrollo kept careful track of each luxury he was lucky enough to come across. It was when he was 14 years old that he finally decided to make his own luck. He wanted those luxuries to become so abundant that he could not possibly count them anymore.





	Deserving

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first time in over a year that i've actually written in the past tense for a whole fic, so please forgive any tense errors.

For the first few of them, at least, Chrollo kept careful track of each luxury he was lucky enough to come across. It was when he was 14 years old that he finally decided to make his own luck. He wanted those luxuries to become so abundant that he could not possibly count them anymore.

The idea of the Troupe didn't immediately occur to him. All he knew was that he was sick of waiting around for anything decent. He was sick of digging through trash just to survive. He was sick of _living_ in it. In Meteor City, anyone can take what they want because garbage inherently has no value, and the city itself is little more than a landfill. The inhabitants could only take what the rest of the world had gotten bored of, had broken, had lost.

Venturing outside of Meteor City for the first time expanded Chrollo's horizons so quickly that it overwhelmed him. He hadn't even intended to go far, just wanted some exercise, but he got lost in his own mind and stopped paying attention to his surroundings until he realized that something smelled _good_. Food-- _fresh_ food, various perfumes, all kinds of unfamiliar stimuli assaulted him at once and he was left wandering wide-eyed and speechless through the streets.

He stopped at a large house dressed in police tape. He only recognized the tape from scraps he found in Meteor City; always curious, he managed to get an explanation as to what it was out of someone at the time. Learning to read had been difficult without formal education, but he certainly acknowledged the phrase "DO NOT CROSS". He promptly ignored it, weaving through the tape to see what's inside.

Of course it was a crime scene, why shouldn't he have expected the smeared blood thickly staining the... the oddly plush floor. Immediately disregarding the scene, he dropped to his knees and rubbed a clean spot of the floor with his hands. It was so soft. It took a moment to tear himself away from it, but the promise of more luxury inside was enough to make Chrollo stand. He walked to the kitchen, hesitant to leave the soft ground as the flooring transitioned to cold tile, but eager to investigate a potentially _working_ refrigerator. It startled him when he opened it, as the light inside suddenly turned on. It was cold inside, just like he was told.

The food within was almost nothing he recognized. Presently, as an adult, he can list off exactly what he'd helped himself to: strawberries that were still fresh, leftover roast beef that probably would have been better had he known to heat it up, grapes, cherries, baby carrots-- he had a few bites of everything until he was full, a feeling so rare for him. It actually disappointed him, because he wanted to keep eating all this wonderful food.

The house had a second floor, and Chrollo actually hadn't seen stairs before. He was no stranger to heights, though, so he climbed them without a problem, stopping at the top to look out over the first floor. With the way the stairs were positioned, most of the house was behind him, with his only view being of the front door. A little disappointing, but at least that made it easier to keep moving.

The first room he peered into had objects he did recognize, but only in ruined and incomplete states. He'd never seen a fully assembled bed, or a spotless dresser with a television on top, or a wardrobe that was actually packed with clothes like the books always say they are. The clothes were mainly dresses and girly things, but he took a liking to a jacket inside and carefully removed it. It was small and gray and had black fur trim on the wrists and around the hood. It fit him perfectly, squeezing his arms slightly as he put it on but resting comfortably around his torso.

When he sat on the bed, it was an unconscious action performed idly while still preoccupied by the jacket. He wasn't expecting it to sink so much, to be so soft. He turned around and sank his hands into it with some force, staring with fascination as he felt the bed rise slightly as the force lessened. He scrambled under the covers-- a huge comforter and two layers of sheets-- and lied down in it, the coziest he's ever felt in his life. The pillows were even softer than the bed, and it all smelled so good. The idea that he'd have to leave and go home later brought tears to his eyes. For a while, he lied in bed and silently cried.

Eventually, he got up. He threw the covers off of himself and sat up, hopping off the bed and onto the plush carpet. He had friends back home. Chrollo didn't have much of a concept of right or wrong, still doesn't, but he thought it was wrong to be the only one who got to experience this.

But this was a crime scene, he realized. The police weren't done investigating, and he was probably just very lucky with his timing. He and his friends would have to find somewhere else. They already know the concept of taking items that don't belong to them yet, so why not everything else in the world, too? But he wasn't stupid, he knew it wouldn't be as easy as it sounded. He tasked himself with coming up with something, anything to get them out of Meteor City.

And so, with his stolen jacket still on his back, he started on his way back home, an undeniably different person than when he first wandered away that morning.


End file.
